


At last as one

by Mazen



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Till Death Do Us Part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 04:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18985183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazen/pseuds/Mazen
Summary: "I sing only for you! Tonight I gave you my soul and I am dead!"- Christine, The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux





	At last as one

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this picture by an unknown artist: https://gore-----whore.tumblr.com/post/184522056370/till-death-do-us-part-artist-unknown

"I sing only for you! Tonight I gave you my soul and I am dead!"

He had thought her to be overdramatic, that sweet girl. For who would have thought that her dedication to him could kill her? He had never pushed her to such an end. Surely it must've been herself that had taken it too far.

She had seemed faint that evening, so though he hadn't planned to take her underground, he had done it anyway. She had been in no condition to return to her shared apartment with Mama Valerius where she no doubt would excess herself more by doing chores. No, it was better that she had come with him. 

After a few steps into the passageway, she had tripped, so he had carried her until they reached the place where Ceasar was waiting for them. Once on the white horse's back, she had leaned against Erik and fallen into a light sleep. The warmth from her had filled his entire being and he had thought then that he could die happy.

When they had reached the lake, he carried her into the gondola and she had stirred and her beautiful eyes found his own. She had stared at him in the dark as he navigated them over the lake, his eyes not leaving hers since his arms already knew which ways to steer without visual aid.

Once at the shore, she had taken his hand and led him to the house where he opened the door. He hadn't expected it when she without a word kept his hand in hers and led him to her bedroom. "Stay with me," she had whispered when lying down on the bed, "for without you I shall truly perish." He had tried to object when she wanted him to lie down next to her, feeling his body reacting shamefully to such a request, but in the end he hadn't been able to deny her.

Neither of them had moved to turn off the lights. There had been a space between them as each of them lay on their side, facing each other, but she had taken his bony hand and kept it close to her heart. He didn't know how long they had rested in silence, while staring into each other's eyes, before hers had drifted closed. He hadn't left her side when her breath began to even or when  dreams came to her. Instead he had stayed with her until his fingers twitched with melodies.

He shouldn't have left her - he knew that now.

When he had left the bed to play the music in his head, her soul had left with him. That's why he had been able to compose the last of Don Juan Triumphant; where love saved the protagonist's soul. For days he had played and written down what notes came to his mind, each one a testament of his devotion to Christine and to music. The end result had been glorious; a true rendition of the power of love.

He had been free, then, to lie down in his coffin and rest for eternity as he had always planned to. But for once he had no desire to. Instead he had sought out Christine, his muse, to tell her of the good news and ask for her hand in marriage. Together they could live in the light above, now that his soul was free of torment. 

He knew now that her own soul was in his composition where his had planned to go.

Her body was still beautiful. It had gone stiff and then lax again in the time it had taken him to finish composing, so when he had grasped her hand in his and pulled her into an embrace, she had been movable like she was still sleeping. He had been able to pretend, for a while. Of course she had never been cold alive, but at least the chill of the room kept her body fresh for longer than it would otherwise.

As he had held her in his arms, he had wept. Oh, how wicked he had been to leave her side and take her soul with him. That night she had told him that she had given him her soul and he should've known it to be true. She was such an honest and good girl.

After weeping by her side for hours, perhaps days, he heard an alarm gone off. He didn't know how long it had been since he had taken her below, but it must've been several days. The meddling Daroga was after him now, surely to accuse him of kidnapping. But she had gone with Erik willingly and it was willingly that she had given up her soul to him. He wasn't to blame. Only for leaving her side that night. 

It didn't take him long to close off all of the passageways. He had been prepared for it after all; that one day he wouldn't have the need to leave his house. He just hadn't expected that it would've been with her, not unintentionally at least.

Now he would stay by her as he should've done that night. The Daroga would be lost for days in the mazes above.

He carried her limp body to his coffin. She looked so out of place in there. He removed her dressing gown and covered her chemise-clad body in a simple long blue gown without skirts and bustle. Its simplicity enhanced her beauty. It sat loose on her now because the measures, he had made it from, had been from her live body. Now her spirit had left her, her physical body seemed deflated. 

He weaved roses into her blonde curls to make up for their lost shine, but never once did she look any less beautiful than she had alive.

He climbed into the coffin beside her, placing the finished manuscript for his opera between them, as well as his pocket watch. He lay down with her, recreating their last night together; only this time _he_ took _her_ hand and held it close to his heart. When the watch stopped, so would his heart and his soul would finally find hers again.

He kissed her limp hand and whispered "Till we meet again" before closing his eyes.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he wasn't dead. The clock was still ticking. He couldn't understand why until he looked at his beloved.

Her lips were thin and flat, her closed eyes sunken into their sockets and her skin was grey with a yellowish glare in the early beginnings of decay. And her nose! Her beautiful, round button nose had collapsed on itself.

He realized then why he hadn't died yet: At long last they were equal! He was supposed to see this. Her appearance matched his own and they were now as one.

Never had he felt such peace! In death he had been given a bride, one he was finally worthy of. 

It was then that the tickling of his watch began to halter. It skipped a tick here and there until there was more silence than ticks. At last the ticking stopped completely and as did Erik's heart.


End file.
